


Mascherari

by Enchantable



Category: The Order (TV 2019)
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/M, Family Drama, Fluff and Angst, Formalwear, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2019-12-27 01:31:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18294107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enchantable/pseuds/Enchantable
Summary: “I’ll be your plus one,” he offers.“I told you my family is full of psychos who are our sworn enemies and you’re volunteering?” She asks.“Yes,” he replies without hesitation, “they’re your family.”





	1. Arlecchino

The invitation sticks out among the pile of bills and adds.

 

Randall curses. Jack has been getting more of them. He’s Edward’s oldest son, far as anyone can tell. He also defeated him. He’s appealing to  both sides. Randall hates the look Jack gets when they come. He hates being the one to give it to him. Mail duty is supposed to be the easiest chore. He sorts everything and goes to the living room, handing out piles. Jack goes right for the ornate black envelope. Randall grimaces at the look he gives. Lilith looks up from her paper and over as he slits the envelope. He hisses as blood wells along the cut and rolls his eyes. 

 

“Guys, we should invest in blood banks,” he says, dropping the envelope to the floor. 

 

They all turn as it folds on itself and into a carousel, complete with music and small lights. Randall laughs and crouches to get a closer look. Two horses detach from their poles and gallop in opposite directions. One goes to Jack. Randall turns and watches the other gallop up the desk and pitch itself onto Lilith’s laptop. She makes a noise of complete disgust and the thing rears up, neighing at her. She grabs her laptop and the thing slices her forearm. 

 

“Every god damn time!” She grabs a tissue and wads the wound as the horse unfolds. She growls and picks up the car between her fingers, “this is such bullshit.” 

 

“Uh, Lilith?” Hamish says, “anything you want to tell us?”

 

“No!” She snaps, sitting back in the chair and crossing her arms. 

 

Randall gets up and joins Hamish over Jack’s shoulder. The gold script spells out the date and time in calligraphy even he can appreciate. There’s dressing instructions and a box to check if you are coming alone or bringing someone. There’s no ‘will not attend’ option. Which is kind of entitled in his opinion but he doesn’t have to deal with it. He looks at the address to see if there’s an excuse in that and frowns. He’s been staring at text books for too long. They’ve gotten enough of these to know the person who got the invitation has to hold the cards, but he reaches out anyway. Jack catches him and saves him some flesh wounds. Lilith still isn’t talking. Both of them glance to him like he’s suddenly responsible for the words that come out of her mouth. 

 

“She said no,” he says, “don’t look at me.”  
  
“Yeah, don’t look at him,” Lilith objects loudly, “look at me. Just tear it up and pretend it didn’t happen.”

 

“Can you tear this thing?” Jack says.

 

“I’m a werewolf, I can tear anything,” she says, grabbing the corners. 

 

“Tearing that isn’t going to change what we saw,” Hamish says, “we need to know what we’re up against,” he sighs as she struggles, “clearly they mean business.”

 

“I don’t care!” Lilith snaps. 

 

“Even if they endanger us?” 

 

Lilith gives him a look of pure disgust. Jack’s face softens in sympathy and her eyes turn venomous. They settle on him finally. He gives her a small, encouraging smile. He only knows fragments and he hasn’t pushed her. But he’s always done his best to communicate that he’ll be there no matter what she is. Lilith looks at him for a moment longer than the others and presses her lips together, struggling with some kind of war with herself. Her resolve sets and she looks back at all of them. She could tell them to fuck off or explain and Randall’s not sure which is about to happen. 

 

“My parents invited you to their annual spring equinox ball,” she says. 

 

“Annual for how many years?” Jack asks. 

 

“A few hundred,” Lilith says glancing away.

 

“A few hundred?” Hamish repeats. She glares at him, “are the invitations this elaborate?” She nods, “so you are—“

 

“A legacy. Whatever, don’t make it a big deal,” she says. The cards tremble and she swears, “just make your choice or it’s going to do this all over again. Say you’re bringing someone and we’ll get you two in.”  She drips blood onto the right square and Jack does the same. The squares fold themselves out of existence. The carousel stays. Lilith picks it up and sets it on the shelf, “you can touch it now.”

 

Randall can’t resist. It’s shockingly heavy and seems to be made of glass or obsidian. Lilith goes back into her chair and refocuses on her essay. She growls and they break off before they can yell at her for staring. Except him. Randall goes back over to his beanbag and picks up the letters that he got. He knows better than to demand from her. Since they got their memories back, as she’s begun to unpack everything he’s tried to be her rock. It’s easier said than done. Lilith and rocks don’t get along. He can see her struggling and sometimes the only thing he can do is show her he’ll be there without expecting anything in return. Sometimes that includes information. So he focuses on the letters. Lilith taps on the keyboard for another bit before she smacks her hand down and shoves it aside. She drops onto the beanbag next to him, thighs pressed together and he looks over at her. 

 

“I thought I was the black sheep of my family. I wasn’t until I left the Order. They rewrote my entire history,” his stomach churns at the thought of someone doing that, “before I was a black sheep I was not,” she says carefully, “Midnight blew the secret that we remember and since then, things have been weird at home.”

 

“Did they know you were a werewolf?” He asks. 

 

“Not before,” she says, “they do now,” she wraps her arms around herself and then presses them into the beanbag, “anyway this isn’t about me. They want Jack. They just think they’ll have an easier time if I’m there.” 

 

There’s something calculated about how she speaks and Randall decides he’s not a fan. She looks nervous which is equally strange, though she smoothes the expression out with something that tells him this is not the first time she’s done that. He turns to her and leans against the beanbag, giving her the height advantage. It’s not something she’ll admit to liking, but he knows her well enough to see her already excellent posture become even better. 

 

“I’ll be your plus one,” he says. She raises an eyebrow, “boyfriend privileges.”

 

“I told you my family is full of psycho witches who are our sworn enemies and you’re volunteering?” She asks.

 

“Yes,” he replies without hesitation, “they’re your family.” 

 

She looks at him for another silent moment and he just stays still. Her wariness is something that’s always been attributed to family things. But now that they know the reason behind it, it makes even more sense why trusting is so hard. He wants to show her she can. At least with him. Which isn’t going to matter if she kills him for calling himself her boyfriend before they’ve had that discussion. She isn’t killing him though, even if she might still be considering it. So he waits, he’s a patient guy and Lilith’s patience can be counted down by the second. 

 

“They’re going to hate you,” she tells him.

 

“I’ll win them over,” he promises, “besides, I only really care if you hate me.”

 

She shrugs and he rolls back, dramatically clasping his hand over his heart like she’s wounded him. She rolls her eyes and falls back with her head against his stomach. 

 

“Have you ever worn a tux?” She asks him.

 

“At prom,” he says. 

 

 That’s not the right answer apparently because she bites her bottom lip and gets the look on her face like she’s making a list. 

 

“I’ll talk to Hamish,” he says, “if anyone can deal with the tux thing it’s Mr. Three Piece suit,” even she can’t argue with that, “it’s gonna be great, Lil,” he says with what he hopes is his most encouraging smile, “and even if it sucks, we’ll figure it out.” 

 

The ‘we’ part of it is new. For both of them. Of all the things he likes changing, learning her secrets isn’t one he wants to rush. It never has been. He couldn’t imagine not respecting her space and boundaries. She turns so that she’s laying half on his chest. When his arms come around her waist she doesn’t even react. Touching isn’t new, but laying on top of each other on the bean bag is. 

 

“We’ll figure it out,” he repeats.


	2. Zanni

Lilith is used to being the only girl in a house full of boys by now. 

 

She knows that there are things that their brains are too small to comprehend. That her own college experience is going to be vastly different from her parents or peers. There’s no magic hair oil brewing or comparing how to hem the robes that are inevitably ill fitting for someone who isn’t a well built man. She can live without all of it. She would trade it all for Randall’s giant breakfasts and Hamish’s colorful vocabulary around midterms. And maybe for Jack’s ability to be quick even when he’s confused. Right now though, she hates living in a house full of men. 

 

“I didn’t know you could mail a gown,” Jack admits, staring at the massive box.

 

“They ship suits all the time. Obviously they could do it with gowns,” Hamish says. 

 

Randall is quiet but turns when she storms in and looks down at the box. She finally has an name for the feeling churning in her stomach. Humiliation. This is humiliating. All of them are staring at her and she wishes that the next spell could make the ground open and just swallow her. Lilith hates feeling embarrassed like this. She doesn’t forgive the Order for erasing her or whatever second step happened to make her think she was a different person. But she’s had a good year and a half where she has been able to be completely herself. Now it feels like it’s unraveling faster than she wishes. She hates complicated shit like this, she always has. 

 

“Can we stop staring like it’s a god damn bomb?” She snaps and storms over to the box, dropping to her knees and undoing the ribbon. 

 

“I mean given the state of the world—“ Jack begins.

 

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Hamish says.

 

Lilith tosses the lid aside, though the impact isn’t half as satisfying as she needs it to be. The dress is just as bad as she feared. She sets her jaw and lifts it up. God, it’s fucking heavy too. She remembers the weight of these things. Her stomach churns. She remembers everything about them. The three guys are looking at her like she’s grown a second head and the feeling gets worse with every second. She hated the feeling of being surrounded and judged by people she didn’t like. She doesn’t know how to repeat it with people she does. She throws the dress down and Hamish actually looks pained at something so beautiful being handled that way. Well, good, then he can put it on and parade in front of everyone like some power chip in a much larger game. 

 

“You weren’t kidding when you said formal,” Jack remarks too loudly, “I guess I need my nice denim jacket.” 

 

“I can’t,” Hamish says, running his hand down his face, “that dress and your love of faded denim do not belong in the same room.”

 

“Hey, I said nice denim,” Jack objects. 

 

Lilith lets their squabbling wash over her as she tears her eyes from the box at her feet. Randall gets the lid and puts it on the box. Lilith realizes he hasn’t said a word. He straightens up and she only hesitates a moment before grabbing his wrist and pulling him out of the room. Her deepest secrets feel like they’ve been laid out for everyone. This she wants just for herself. She pulls him into another room and drops his wrist, folding her arms. She feels ridiculous wanting him to say something. She’s not needy like that. But Jack’s an ever present reminder of how quickly this can go south. It doesn’t matter that she’s not in the Order. She wouldn’t be surprised if somewhere in those books was something about how genetically Order members and Knights aren’t supposed to be together. No matter where your allegiances are.

 

“God, I can’t believe this,” she says, not sure if she’s more frustrated with herself or this situation, “would you say something?” She looks at him, “don’t tell me seeing that dress made you change your mind.”

 

“What?” He seems jerked out of whatever stupor he’s in, “no!” He looks at her, “I’m trying to picture you in that dress.” 

 

She rolls her eyes because of course he is. Randall sometimes toes the line of every cliche a college guy should be. If he wasn’t genuinely nice and caring and all of those things, it would be unbearable. When she joined Hamish explained that they would be around each other naked a lot. If she was ever uncomfortable they should talk about it before it got out of hand. She isn’t uncomfortable around them, she never has been. But there’s a certain level of attractiveness she’s always felt towards Randall that hasn’t happened with Hamish or Jack. Randall is usually the first to grab a towel or something and always stumbles off to get clothes with a mumbled apology. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what he’s trying to hide.

 

“It’s just a dress,” she snaps, “you’ve seen me naked how many times?”

“I know, I know,” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose, color staining his cheeks, “for the record I’ve got nothing against seeing you naked constantly.”

“Well that’s good to know,” she says.

 

“Or in those crop tops—“

 

“They are not crop tops,” she snaps, “how did you control yourself all this time?”

“I thought you didn’t feel the same way! I’m not an animal, okay? Not most of the time,” he says, “but I’ve never seen you in anything more formal than those leather pants. Maybe I’m intrigued.” 

 

“You’re ridiculous,” she says. 

 

She walks into the room and throws the lid off the box again, startling both of them. She undoes the back and lifts the dress up and pools it on the ground.  Without any preamble she strips, steps into the dress and puts it on. She turns around and shows her back to Hamish.

 

“Do me up.”

 

He jumps forward and quickly does up the back of the dress. She knows what’s at the bottom of the box and grabs the heels, putting one on and then the other. Because if her aunt is making one clothing decision, she is making all of them. She twists her hair up off her face and steps back. 

 

“There,” she says, “mystery solved. Can we move on?”

 

“You look nice,” Jack volunteers.

“I’m trying to wrap my head around seeing you in haute couture,” Hamish says. Lilith flips him off. 

 

“Haute Couture?” Jack says. 

 

“Let me explain,” Hamish says, glancing back at Randall before steering Jack out of the room. 

 

Lilith finally looks at him and sees why they both took off. Randall’s eyes are completely fixated on her. He’s not the first to have stared at her in something like this, but it’s the first time she’s ever wanted to be stared at. She tilts her head to the side and he approaches slowly. Like every step is calculated. Lilith can tell he’s not afraid of her, but the sight of this has thrown him for a loop. Testing a theory, she swishes her skirt and he stops, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head. She sees the faintest glimpse of fang in his jaw. For her, it’s always been her eyes first. For Randall, it’s always been teeth. She’s never made him show before, not just with what she’s wearing. All the faint smiles are gone though when he makes it to her, still keeping a distance which she is only too happy to close by stepping forward. 

 

“So,” she says, “this is what I look like in this dress.”

 

“Yeah,” he says, “you look—“ she watches his throat work, “very nice.”

 

“Really?” She says, “you look kind of wrecked.” His expressions sours. He turns away and she stops him with her hands, “what’s wrong? Don’t bullshit me,” she adds when he opens his mouth to do just that, “I can’t believe I’m saying this but talk to me.”

 

He shakes his head and she’s about to read him a riot act for ignoring the one time she’s inviting this conversation when he kisses her abruptly. There’s something almost shy like he’s holding himself back so she digs into his lip, not enough to hurt but enough to force some actual reaction from him. A sound like a warning comes from him and she pushes into him, feeling his hands flex against where she’s placed them. If he doesn’t want to talk than screw it, she’ll get answers out of him another way. He tightens his arms around her and then shoves back, shaking his head.

 

“What the hell?” She says.

 

“That dress costs more than my tuition,” he says, “my entire education.”

 

“Don’t tell me you’re weirded out by the money,” she says. He looks at her helplessly and she growls, storming over until he’s backed against the wall, “Seriously?” 

 

“It’s not the money! It’s you in that dress and—“ he trails off and throws his head back against the wall, his jawline shifting before he shoves it back, “Fuck.” 

 

“Me and the dress and what?” She demands, “Randall!” She shoves him.

 

“And nothing!” He erupts, “you’re perfect and you’re in that dress?” He clenches his jaw, “just give me a second.”

 

“No,” she says and pulls him down, kissing him and ignoring the feel of his teeth digging into the corner of her lip. 

 

He’s so damn tall but the heels may help a slight bit as he pulls her roughly towards him. Even though the fabric of his sweatshirt she feels him shiver. Without warning she finds herself against the wall, her head against one of his hands as the other grabs her hip and pulls her so close she can feel every inch of him. She swears as he pins her hands above her head and makes a low sound she swears she can feel through her entire body. Any reservations he had about the dress seem to be gone as he shoves up the skirt so he can hook his arm around her leg. She rips her hands free from his and shoves him against the wall, stepping back to undo the buttons. He looks so wrecked she doesn’t trust him and she does have to wear this thing. She shoves the dress off and his eyes sweep the length of her body from the heels to her hair. She tugs her hair free and maybe lets it go down a little more slowly than usual. Randall is immediately on her, staring down at her. 

 

“You gonna tell me to leave the heels on?” She challenges.

 

“Never.”

 

“Good answer,” she says, taking them off so their full height difference is back. He looks even more wrecked at that and Lilith can’t help but be pleased. She kisses him again, deeper this time and slower, not giving any of the power up or letting him take charge, “upstairs?”

 

Randall makes it clear that’s not where he wants to go but she’s not in the mood to be interrupted. When she jumps up and wraps her legs around his still clothed hips, he gets the message and presses his forehead against her collar bone. He doesn’t waste any time in getting her onto his bed. She rolls to her knees and grabs his sweatshirt, helping him throw it off before kissing him again. Most nights go to this, figuring out whose the dominant one just then. She drags him back as he kicks his pants off. Usually she has to pull the fight out of him, his self control is so good. Now though it’s all out. She thoroughly savors the feeling of him being as stripped bare as she has been with this stupid dress and invitation. Emotional vulnerability is the only kind left since they spend all their time naked around each other anyway. Platonic nakedness has nothing on this though as he buries his face in her neck and cries out while she’s still going through the aftershocks. 

 

“Just because of a dress?” She asks when they’re both still breathing hard but more or less coherent. Randall makes a noise of embarrassment and presses his forehead to her collar bone, “is this some weird boy thing—“

“No, no no,” he says quickly, “I have not been harboring fantasies about you in a dress,” he tells her, “it’s just you.”

 

“Just me?”

 

“I like finding out new things about you,” he says and his voice is steady, even though his cheeks are still flush. She isn’t sure if it’s embarrassment or sex though. “You’re interesting.”

 

“This is weird,” she says, “you don’t have to compliment me, we’re already banging.”

 

He shakes his head and brushes back a piece of hair that’s gone across her nose. She shivers even though with the pair of them there’s absolutely no chill between them. When he kisses her this time, she can feel something sweet in his lips. She isn’t sure if she like when she pushes him more, or if she likes when he kisses her and he’s Randall.  He knows enough not to point out that they are doing a lot more than banging. That in a bit he’s going to see all her secrets out there.

 

“Do people in the Order date people who aren’t?” He asks.

 

“Sometimes,” she says, “it’s easier if you date someone in it though. Someone who understands.” 

 

“I understand, but I guess the whole werewolf thing is a deal breaker.”

 

She props her head up on her hand as he shifts onto his back. In any other circumstance it probably would be. She flattens her hand against his abs, feeling him breathe. He catches her hand and brings it up, kissing the back of her knuckles. In the silence she knows is the question of whether or not this is going to come down to a choice. It’s always hovered there. He’s the complication. She doesn’t want to think about it though, not right now. Not when it already feels like she’s on a train that’s got broken brakes and is hurling for the end of the track. She drops her head to his chest instead, wondering how he manages to smell like the best mix of all smells. 

 

“We’re not banging,” she says against his chest, “we’re dating.”

 

She feels his lips against the crown of her head and wonders how that makes her feel better.


	3. Moretta

“You guys remember when we went to see Crazy Rich Asians?” Jack says, “and they pull up to the house? And she finds out just how super rich he is?” He leans forward, “you’re Nick,” he says to Lilith, “and you’re Rachel.”

 

“Dude!” Randall says.

 

“Does that make you Awkwafina?” Hamish asks, pulling up to the gate.

 

The long highway has given way to a driveway that is surrounded by all sides in thick forrest. Randall and Jack have stopped their violent game of punch buggy to stare as Lilith has sunk lower and lower in her seat. Hamish feels less like the leader of the Knights and more like someone driving a carpool. He turns to his most embarrassed Knight and rolls down the window. Lilith undoes her seatbelt and leans over him to stick her head out the window. 

 

“Lilith Bathory and Jack Coventry,” she says, “and guests.” 

 

The gates don’t open, they lower. Lilith sits back down and they drive through. Behind them the gates shoot back up. Rounding the bend, there’s nothing to do but brace for what waits them. Lilith slumps as Hamish and Jack both swear audibly. Lilith turns to glare, Jack has been around the Order. This cannot be that different. He looks at her but even then his shock isn’t lessened.

 

“What was growing up here evten like?” Randall asks.

 

“Complicated,” she says quickly. The other two manage to pick their jaws up to turn to her. Lilith is defiantly wearing sweats. They’ve been in the car. But she can’t spend the entire time compromising herself. She has to balance it out somehow, “lets just rip this bandaide off.”

 

Hamish pulls the car up to where she points and two men dressed in black appear. Lilith holds to her earlier assertion and steps out before any of them can say anything. Hamish keeps his face smooth as one goes into his car to drive it away and the other gets their bags out. They barely acknowledge Lilith but she doesn’t react, instead leading them up the stairs into the main foyer of the house. Inside its air and light in a way it should not be for how dark everything is painted. Cherry wood lines everything, accented in a dark brass that reflects nearly every ray of light. Lilith stops at the foyer, where a massive bowl of gardenias spills across the obsidian and fills the room with perfume. 

 

“Lilith. Darling.”

 

Lilith shoves an affect this place has and turns to greet the woman who approaches. She’s got high cheekbones and dark hair that’s been twisted and pinned. Her clothes have been tailored and only Hamish looks like he can stand next to her. She grasps Lilith’s hands in hers and kisses the air near both cheeks. 

 

“Hello Auntie,” she says.

 

“This must be Mr. Coventry,” she says turning to Jack, who sticks out a hand but she pushes it aside and air kisses him too, “welcome welcome. Lilith I assumed they will be in your rooms. Unless Mr. Coventry would prefer a guest room.”

 

“Nope. I’m good,” Jack squeaks out.

 

“You remember the way?” 

 

“To my rooms?” Lilith says, but her voice has a quietness that makes Randall concerned. Her aunt’s eyes narrow just slightly, “I think so, lets go.”

 

“We’ll see you for supper,” she continues, “this evening. That should give you time enough to change. See you then.” 

 

She goes as quickly as she appeared, giving them their first taste of Lilith’s family. No-one is quite sure how to take it. Lilith breaks the silence first, making a noise of repulsion and motioning them to the stairs. The staircase is massive as well, dividing into two. Lilith motions them up and to the left. There’s three doors and she takes the left again, holding it open. Only then do they remember Lilith’s aunt said rooms. As in plural. There’s a main room, several smaller ones, a bathroom, a kitchenette and a door Randall assumes leads to her bedroom. Lilith opens all the doors in rapid succession. The room they’re in has massive windows that look out on the grounds where several black tents are in the process of being erected. Lilith folds her arms and waits for what the fallout is about to be. 

 

“You grew up here?” Jack manages to get out and Lilith changes her mind.

 

“I’m going to change for tea,” she says, “Hamish and Randall are fine. Jack put on something other than the denim.”

 

She goes into her room. Randall only takes a moment before he follows. 

 

Her bedroom is incredibly lavish. Everything is dark and ornate, but there’s a softness to it that he hasn’t seen before. Somehow it’s the perfect combination of what he’s seen and a little girl’s dream room. Or a very specific kind of little girl. He knows Lilith’s style. Short is the life, so they use the old knight’s left behind stuff. Lilith always picks things that are weathered and sturdy. Nothing perfect and artificial like this. He’s beginning to see why. Lilith is standing by the window seat looking out at the grounds, tension on every line of her. Randall comes closer and sits down, giving her the height again. 

 

“I can’t picture you growing up here,” he admits, “did you like it? Before the memory stuff?” 

 

“No,” she says quietly, not looking at him, “I never fit in here. I hid it better back then.” She falls silent for a moment then continues, “it’s never who I was.”

 

“Hey,  I know who you are,” Randall says quickly, standing up, “so do Jack and Hamish. We know.”

 

He cups her shoulders and she doesn’t violently throw him off. He’s concerned. Quiet and ashamed are two things he doesn’t associate with her. But they are two things coming off her in waves. He tries to picture tiny Lilith. Stuck in the room, surrounded by ruffles and trying to fit in. He can see the parallels between her and Jack so clearly. Maybe this is just what the Order does. The greatest sacrifice is blood but not the kind you draw with a knife. 

 

“We’ll go to my house on the way back,” he says impulsively. Lilith glances up at him, “look my childhood wasn’t like this, but, I can show you what it was like. You can meet my folks. They love you.”

 

Her eyebrows draw together.

 

“They know about me?” She asks.

 

“Yeah I mean, not that we’re dating but I’ve mentioned you. They always ask about you and Hamish and now Jack,” he explains, “I tell them I’m bringing you over as my girlfriend and they might die of shock.” 

 

“My parents don’t know we’re dating,” she says finally. 

 

“I figured,” Randall admits, “do you not—“

 

“No,” she says quickly and then catches her lower lip, “I don’t know,” she glares but he’s not sure who the target of her ire is, “this is too complicated.”

 

“Look we don’t have to tell anyone,” he says. She looks at him doubtfully, “we don’t,” he stresses, “Lil this isn’t a normal situation.”

 

She’s still got her arms wrapped around herself and he risks it by stepping forward and hugging her. Lilith might act like barbed wire on the outside but he’s good at knowing when she wants contact. And he’s a fast healer when he’s wrong. He isn’t this time. He wraps his arms around her and she practically melts into him when she exhales. Her arms go from wrapped around her waist to wrapped around him. 

 

“I hate this,” she says, “I hate being here. I want to go back to the house.”

 

“We can?” He offers and she makes a noise of frustration, “or we can stay.”

 

“We have to stay,” she says, “they’re just going to keep coming after Jack. Them or someone else,” she presses her head into his sternum, “he’s such a pain in the ass. Why’d you have to bring him?”

Randall smiles and is glad she can’t see it with her face buried in his chest. 

 

“I’m 50-50 on my selection for Knights,” he says. 

 

“You’re 1 for 3,” she corrects. He raises an eyebrow and she looks up, “Jack’s had two hides.”

 

“That’s—“ he begins, “that doesn’t count,” he argues, “one person.” 

 

“Two hides,” she says, “idiot.” 

 

Nonverbal communication among wolves translates to their human form. At least in their case it does. Bantering back and forth with her has had a softer edge a lot of the time, but doing it with their arms wrapped around each other is new and isn’t something he’s going to complain about. She cranes her head up to look at him and he smiles back down at her. 

 

“Premed idiot,” he corrects. 

 

She rolls her eyes and pushes. He doesn’t fight it and winds up on top of the black, fluffy, ruffled comforter. And under the canopy. Which—

 

“Holy shit.” 

 

It takes a lot to distract him from his girlfriend and being on her bed, but this might fit the bill. It’s not surprising that the canopy is black. It’s enchanted. He pushes himself up on his forearms to look at the pricks of light that are scattered across the canopy. The bed dips as Lilith gets on next to him.

 

“Your bed is Hogwarts,” he says. 

 

“You’re ridiculous,” she instructs and pulls the ties down, enclosing the bed completely, “lay back.”

 

He lays back and she reaches up. Several of the stars coast down to hover above her fingertips, lines of light connecting them and showing the constellation. He leans forward and she releases them back into the sky. She looks over at him.

 

“You can do it,” she offers, “the spell’s in the canopy.” 

 

“How do I—“

 

She takes his hand and lifts it up, framing the stars in his fingers. He watches as she curls his fingers around them and brings his hand down. They reach to follow and hover above his fingertips. Oddly solid and almost warm. When she drops his hand, they fly back up into the heavens. She nods at him and he reaches up, twisting down another handful that makes two constellations shimmer on his fingertips. 

 

“Okay you want to see something?” She says. He nods, “this involves some actual magic so—“

 

“Okay,” he says when she hesitates. 

 

Lilith shifts on the bed so they’re shoulder to shoulder and raises her hands. The stars shimmer and pause and when she drops her hands, they rush past them like they’re entering light speed. Randall laughs because it’s probably the coolest thing he’s ever seen in his entire life, and he can turn into a giant bipedal wolf at will. Lilith makes a whooshing sound under her breath in a way that’s so impossibly cute he thinks the possibility of her parents actually trying to murder him at some point in the next few days will have been completely worth it. 

 

“You had the actual millennial falcon for a bed,” he says. 

 

She shrugs as the stars twinkle above them. They’ve watched Star Wars together. It’s unfathomable to him that after watching Star Wars together, this has been in her room the entire time. It catches him off guard sometimes how much has been affected by her memory wipe. How there was a different person before the Lilith he knew. How now she’s some combination of all of them. This is a new side to her but when they watched Star Wars the first time, she made the exact same sound after a ton of liquor. He turns over and kisses her. It becomes impossible not to. She presses into it, pulling him closer and he looses the sight of the stars for the smell of her neck. 

 

They all know about the bells that accompany most of the magic. But the rest of it isn’t in any of the journals. He can feel her pulse race and her body heat spike. He can smell the change in her pheromones. It’s different from when they shift. This is something impossibly, uniquely her. She presses her hips into his and he grips her thigh when she slings her leg over his hips. He grips the tab of her hoodie and pulls it down, following the skin that’s exposed with his lips. She chokes back a swear when he kisses right above the waistband of her sweatpants, slipping her leg onto his shoulder. 

 

She might smell like magic and they may be surrounded by it, but when she looks at him, her eyes are wolf bright. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're interested in more please comment or leave kudos.


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